


Hoodie

by kurooos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Rimming, no lube goblin in this one folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 21:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurooos/pseuds/kurooos
Summary: Lance is guilty of beingthatboyfriend that steals your hoodies and jackets. Shiro walks in on him in the act and decides he's gotta do something about that.





	Hoodie

**Author's Note:**

> I had overwhelmingly positive feedback for my first voltron fic so I set to making a sequel as thanks...three years later
> 
> reading [sweatpants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8187112) is not required to enjoy this but if you like this one, you'll probably like that too.
> 
> one last thing, this is set around the same time as sweatpants so...before season 2. No magic floaty arm for shiro, sorry.

Weekends mean nothing out in space. But they have them anyway.

Weekend, here on the Castleship, means they don’t go out in search of trouble like they usually do. Weekends are only work days when they receive a direct cry for help.

It’s one of those days that Shiro finds himself wishing they had something to do. If they were busy with Voltron duties, Lance wouldn’t be hanging out in his room.

Not that he minds Lance being around him. No, he likes it most of the time, even though Lance can babble on and on about whatever comes to mind.

But Lance is also good at being quiet when he concentrates, especially on a good book. He’ll typically hole himself up somewhere Shiro frequents, knowing that no one else really bothers those spaces except maybe Keith every now and then. But that’s rare.

Shiro steps into his room to find Lance there on his bed like he owns it, wearing _his_ clothes like he owns them.

Lance is sprawled out on his stomach, feet swaying lightly in the air. His head is leaned over on his hand, propped up by his elbow. His fingers are in the middle of flipping the page of whatever book he’s reading right now when he looks up to make sure it was actually Shiro walking in. His blue eyes flit back down to the pages after he mumbles a small greeting.

That’s all fine and dandy. Shiro doesn’t mind. What he does mind is what Lance is wearing. His bare legs are out on display, smooth, tan legs that look like they go on for days swaying to an invisible breeze. He’s only in boxers, elastic and form fitting so Shiro doesn’t have to strain at all to see the curve and swell of his ass. At least the small curve he can see under the hem of his hoodie.

His _favorite_ hoodie, actually.

It was an exact replica of the one he had on Earth. Solid off-white with dark navy font taking up the front in a simple, futuristic style. _Aperture Laboratories_. With the signature disk off to the right where the large A was set.

It was a little larger on Lance’s frame. His shoulders filled it out, but Shiro’s torso was longer, his arms longer. Lance’s fingers were barely peeking out from the sleeve when he turned the page again, slender fingertips smoothing down the crisp edge of the page as he finished his sentence and then lightly flipped the page over. His fingers pressed along the center to keep the page tamed down.

A well sculpted eyebrow raises when Lance’s eyes flicker over to him again and then back down. His ankles cross and uncross before crossing once again.

“Am I in your way?” he asks, still in the middle of reading. Shiro shakes his head no despite not being seen.

“You’re okay right there,” Shiro walks closer to the bed, a finger lifting the edge of his hoodie.

“This is mine,” he states.

Lance hums, “it sure is.”

Shiro mocks the hum, “I’m bored.” It’s a challenge.

Lance’s hum comes again, this time uninterested while he flips another page, “sorry for your loss.”

Shiro considers if it really is. He doesn’t feel like his boredom is a failure on his part. It brought him here, didn’t it?

His finger relinquishes the hem of fabric, smoothing down the back of Lance’s thigh. It comes back up on the opposite leg, teasing just under his boxers before continuing under his hoodie. Lance’s back is warm from staying in one place for so long.

Shiro suddenly gets an idea and kisses the small sliver of skin he can see above the collar of the hoodie, right under Lance’s hairline.

“I want to eat you out,” he whispers, watching for Lance’s reaction. Just to get his point across he rests his human hand gently between Lance’s legs, fingers blunt against his soft entrance, only stopped by thin boxers.

But he doesn’t get a flustered reaction or a moan like he was hoping. Instead, Lance flips another page on his novel and says, “go for it” in a bored tone. His curled fingers return to the side of his face, cheek squished by his palm where he rests, uninterested eyes lidded as he tracks each sentence slowly.

Well then. Shiro sits up with a slant to the corner of his mouth and a determined huff. He climbs onto his bed, uncrossing Lance’s ankles. Without being asked, Lance raises up just a little on his knees, enough for his hips to come up from the bed.

Shiro takes the opportunity to pull Lance’s boxers off, tossing them off the mattress. Still without any reaction, Shiro rubs his warm metal hand up Lance’s pert ass and over to his lower back, rucking the hoodie up halfway.

His lips fit perfectly in the two shallow venus dimples on Lance’s back, just barely above his hips. When Shiro fills one in with the flat of his tongue, Lance squirms a little, hips dropping before Shiro eases them back to their original angle with feather-light fingertips under the jut of his hipbones. It’s more of a suggestion, a reminder that Lance needs to keep up on his knees. Shiro imagines the angle isn’t comfortable on his back.

Still, Lance doesn’t move any and without feedback, Shiro sets to kissing Lance’s spine, down to each cute cheek, following the curve. Shiro uses his tongue to trace the seam where Lance’s thigh meets the bottom of his ass. He sucks the skin pink-red there before he moves on to trail kisses all the way to the back of his folded knee.

Lance moves like he’s going to put his feet down, extending his knee, but Shiro catches him at the shin, kissing back up under his ass with a quiet smile.

“Don’t move,” he teases.

The heat of his breath sends goosebumps down Lance’s legs and he enjoys being able to watch each little bump raise. He follows the imaginary trail they lead up Lance’s back, fingertips riding every curve of his spine, humming in content when Lance arches for him.

Shiro drags the slick flat of his tongue over one of Lance’s cheeks, watching for a reaction to that. Getting none, he decides he’ll just dive right into it.  

Shiro uses his thumb to pull Lance apart softly, following it with his tongue. He takes his time, making sure he’s leaving a wet trail and then coming over it again. And again. And _again_.

Shiro loses track of his time, seconds blending into minutes spent with his tongue smoothing over Lance’s rim, pressing and prodding where he sees fit. He tries to wiggle his tongue inside but Lance isn’t prepped enough for that. It doesn’t mean Shiro won’t try.

The slower Shiro licks, the looser Lance gets. The slight tension in his hips starts to falter and Shiro can press his tongue in deeper with a quiet groan rising up in his chest.

A noise above him that sounds like a muffled gasp catches his attention. He twists his tongue inside before peeking his eyes open, tracing up Lance’s curved back and trembling shoulders all the way up to red tipped ears.

Lance’s face is now buried in his book, forehead rumpling the tops of the pages. He has one hand grabbing the edge of the bed, and the other holding the short hair above his neck. Lance notices the sudden pause in slick muscle and turns his head. Baby blues are dark and wide, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks, bottom lip slick and pink from his chewing.

“Don’t stop,” Lance whispers on a whine. How can Shiro say no to that?

Even though his jaw is getting sore and his tongue is getting tired, Lance is opening up. Enough so that Shiro can now ease a finger in alongside his tongue without much pushing. He pulls, gives a little push before rocking his wrist slowly. A second finger fills up the space left by his tongue when he moves back and starts to nip and suck at Lance’s cheeks, grinning at the moans he’s pulling out of the other. When Lance’s ass and tops of his thighs are covered in hickies of all different shades and sizes, Shiro backs off.

Lance’s head picks up again where he’s tucked himself back down into his book, covered by his arm, but Shiro doesn’t give him time to complain. He drags his fingers out slow, curling them on the way. Shiro then takes him by his slender hips, flips him around, and yanks. Lance goes sliding across the bed, book tumbling off the bed in a flutter of pages.

Lance yelps, looking back at the edge of the bed before whirling around on Shiro, mouth agape.

“I didn’t bookmark my spot, you jerk!”

Ignoring Lance's little pout, Shiro has returned with open mouthed kisses on Lance’s hips, sucking barely there pink splotches in a line upward. His hands shove his hoodie up in little increments. He follows his fingers with his tongue. Lance’s skin is fever warm from being bundled up in his hoodie for who knows how long. He shivers with more skin being revealed to the air, warmth only staying where Shiro puts his mouth and sucks.

When Shiro’s hoodie finally gets stuck up under his armpits, Lance squirms, legs spreading to welcome Shiro’s waist between them. He’s panting, just a little out of breath watching Shiro crawl up his chest. His chest gets tight, right as Shiro reaches his nipples and hovers.

Looking up for a second, catching Lance's lidded blue eyes, he gets an idea. Lance has always loved watching Shiro, no matter what he did. He liked watching him especially doing something naughty, doing it _slow_.

Lance holds down a gasp, heart bounding when Shiro opens his mouth, sticks his tongue out, glistening with spit, and drags it slow over one of his nipples.

“Oh _fuck_ -” Lance moans, a hand sliding up Shiro’s back to rest at his nape. He wants to put his head back and keep Shiro there forever, but he knows if he doesn’t watch he’ll regret it, even though Shiro’s eyes are burning right through him.

Shiro rolls his tongue around dusky areolas, flicking at his nipples before dragging his teeth across the sensitive tips. The motions is repetitive, over and over until Lance’s fingers are tight in his hair and he’s grinding up against Shiro’s stomach, moans loud in the little inset of the wall.

Lance is so fucking close to the edge already by the time Shiro's mouth gives him a break. He didn’t think he’d be able to cum from just this, a little bit of teasing at his chest and rutting against Shiro’s firm muscles, but he has no doubt he could. Just a little more. Just a few seconds _more_.

The right side of his chest is cold now that Shiro has stopped sucking and teasing and playing with him, but the heat comes right back on the left. Somehow it feels better, so much more sensitive.

Lance moans again, hiccuping when his thighs start getting tired. He’s stuck on a loop of pleas, mindless babbling that Shiro can’t pick apart. Not that it matters, he’s not going to stop, and if Lance isn’t begging him to stop then no problem.

Shiro leans his weight down, pins Lance’s hips to the bed. His stomach is wet with precum, trapping Lance’s cock between the two of them now. Shiro catches Lance’s nipple between his teeth and bites, keeps it still to flick with the tip of his tongue.

A yank to his hair makes Shiro let go, grunting. It’s what Lance wanted apparently, he chokes up and moans again, legs squirming against Shiro’s sides. The heated space between them gets wetter and Shiro kisses under Lance’s jaw as he feels the pulse Lance’s cock against his skin, spending himself. Shiro uses one thumb to rub across one of Lance’s hard, slick nipples, keeping the stimulus gentle until he’s done.

Lance melts back down into the bed, voice shaky when he sighs. His arms slide around broad shoulders, hugging Shiro close so he can’t sit up. Resigned to his fate, he stays pressed down on top of Lance, grimacing at the slickness between them that is starting to cool.

“I’m not finished with you, Lance.”

Shiro runs his lips across Lance’s collarbones and smiles at the shiver it earns him. Lance takes a heaving breath and looks down at him, obviously tired.

“What more could you have for me?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” Shiro says mockingly.

One arm easily slides between Lance’s legs, the bend of his knee catching in his elbow when he pushes. Lance gasps as the metal fingers circle his rim, soft and pliant and clenching around the artificial knuckles when Shiro presses two fingers inside. He teases with a third and Lance tugs Shiro into a kiss, licking into his mouth with shaking noises. Three fingers turns into four and Shiro wonders if he’d be able to get his hand-

“Please. Please, please, Shiro,” Lance hiccups, kissing at his lips and cheeks like a prayer, “I can’t- can’t do much more. Fuck me already.”

“Not so bored are you?”

Shiro draws his fingers out. He watches Lance squirm on the bed, only in his hoodie, all messed up and disheveled. Shiro’s never been that strong in resisting Lance’s wants. He lets him go for the split second it takes for him to lean off the bed and grab a bottle of lube.

Between one kiss and the next, Shiro’s pressing inside, galra metal pressing on the center of Lance’s chest, wrinkling the logo as he makes sure Lance stays put and doesn’t move. He uses his other hand to hold Lance’s leg up against his waist. He gives a quick testing thrust and Lance whines.

Shiro doesn’t have to take much queue from there. He lets his hips snap forward. He uses the hem of his hoodie to make sure Lance doesn’t slide away from him, risking the stretch of the fabric. Not that he’d care. Lance watches him with dark eyes, desire running very clearly in the way he watches Shiro tip his shoulders back and fuck into him like that’s what he was made for.

Lance’s babbling makes it clear that’s what he wants to be made for. Shiro can only make out cursing and a few other ridiculous ramblings. Some of them being Shiro looking strong, fucking him so good, not stopping. Some that he’s too embarrassed to think about. All of it makes Shiro laugh anyway, breathless when it’s mixed with a moan.

Lance starts to try and push the sleeves up when it looks like he’s overheating but Shiro is quicker. He grabs one hand, presses it into the bed and watches Lance pant, sweat darkening the hair around his forehead. He wanted to wear his hoodie, well now he's going to be stuck with it. 

Lance feels hotter inside and it’s not long until Shiro feels that heat spread up to his gut. He thinks about anything except cumming just because he wants to draw this out more for Lance. He wants to watch the arch of his back, the way he tries to muffle himself only to whine when Shiro inevitably stops whatever he’s doing. Lance is addicting to watch. He’s so fucking pretty.

Lance squeezes his eyes shut and reaches down to get his hand around his cock, moaning. Shiro realizes he said that last bit out loud and says it again. Calls Lance beautiful and pretty and lovely until he’s shaking and cumming across his stomach again, shooting up across the fabric of his hoodie with a cry of his name.

Shiro’s heart thunders in his ears, harder still in his cock until he pulls out and shoots across Lance’s hips and stomach. He watches the first two stripes land across tan skin before he tips his head back and fucks into his fist to finish off.

Shiro relaxes when hot, wet hands pet across his stomach. He lets go of his now overstimulated cock and looks down to see Lance smiling at him, a bit more dopey than usual.

“Calling me pretty. Psh,” Lance mumbles.

“You are so friggin’ hot, dude,” Lance laments, finally loud enough to not be mumbling and muttering to himself. Shiro snorts, sitting down on the bed between Lance’s legs. The other takes that as permission to climb up into his lap.

“I’m serious. I don’t know how I managed to luck out in getting you.”

Shiro pets down the mess of cowlicks on the side of Lance’s head. He grins when he says, “I think it had something to do with my ‘inconsiderate’ sweatpants?”

A blush runs up Lance’s face and he groans, fingers locking behind Shiro’s neck when he leans back for the dramatics. He comes back to stare at him, quite seriously.

“ _You_ jumped _me_. I was perfectly fine watching you for like, the rest of forever.”

“You act like us dating means you still can't do that.”

“You don’t understand. It’s different now. Now you _know_ I get horny seeing you in those.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Shiro blinks when Lance starts to push his bangs back, probably slicking his hair down with a mix of lube and cum and sweat...eugh. He sits still through it, lets Lance ramble on while petting at him. It’s not an uncommon thing anymore. The petting thing. Lance does it when he's thinking or following a tangent.

“When you didn’t know I had the hots for you, it made it feel like. Exciting. Not that _this_ isn’t exciting, this is great. It just felt like you were this unattainable fantasy. My commanding officer that I shouldn't have been lusting over. Made it feel like I was doing something wrong.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow, expecting Lance to keep going after that but he stops. Lance looks down at Shiro and then smiles softly, holds his cheeks to pull him into a kiss. Shiro rests his hands on Lance’s bare hips.

“Speaking of having the hots. I’m pretty sure if I don’t get out of this hoodie I’m going to have a stroke.”

Shiro’s hands creep up, thumbs and index fingers pinching the hem so it stays stretches down, covering Lance completely. Lance makes a face, blinking down at him.

“Not to mention there’s cum _in_ and on it.”

“That’s on you, bud. You were the one wearing it when I came in. Could have taken it off. Could have worn one of your own.”

Lance watches him for a beat and then his eyes brighten up.

“Do you like seeing me in it?”

“I can’t say I _don’t_ ,” Shiro rolls his eyes.

Lance suddenly wiggles in his lap, half hard when he rocks his hips forward into Shiro’s.

“Yeah but do you _like_ seeing me in it? Did it turn you on?” Lance whispers, leaning in to nip at Shiro’s ear, grinning when the man groans.

“Lots of things about you turn me on,” Shiro relents. It’s not the answer Lance was looking for. He bucks forward, shoves Shiro down on his back.

Shiro gets a full view of Lance leaning back in a soft arch, hips rolling slow, somehow now fully hard from either his talking or moving or both. The hoodie is just barely covering Lance’s knuckles as he reaches down and takes his cock at the base. Shiro watches the slow drag of his thumb across the slit with a dry mouth. He shouldn't find that _cute_ , but he does.

“Is this turning you on?”

“How are you still horny?”  _Does your dick ever hurt?_

Shiro reaches out, pulling on the back of Lance’s thighs. Obediently, he sits up and shuffles over Shiro’s chest on his knees with the insistent pulling until he’s all but sitting on his neck. Shiro looks up to watch Lance swallow roughly.

He raises an eyebrow at him in a silent question. A challenge. He wonders if Lance could cum again, usually he gets too sensitive after two, so this is different. Lance meets his gaze and then raises up further on his knees, bends over his head to angle his cock better.

Since it’s right there, so close and already dripping, Shiro lets his tongue drag along the side. He makes sure to keep watching Lance. As long as he doesn’t look away, neither will Shiro.

The angle is a little awkward and Lance looks funny like this. It’s a weird angle to see him from and his bangs are hanging off his face. He’s almost looking upside down as well to keep the eye contact.

His hoodie hangs off Lance’s frame a bit with the way he’s pitched forward. Shiro can see the inside, follows the faint line of hickies he’s left up Lance’s stomach to his chest where Lance’s nipples are. They're still swollen and hard.

Shiro watches the way Lance’s lips part on a gasp and his eyelashes flutter when he sucks the head of his cock into his mouth. He rolls his tongue across it, dips against the underside until Lance moans quietly.

It doesn’t take much longer, Lance is still shaky, and just like Shiro thought, sensitive. He watches the stretch of warm skin across his chest when he stutters on a gasp, holds his breath, and then twitches against Shiro’s tongue.

There’s not much to swallow, just one, weak little jet of cum across his tongue. Shiro sucks, keeps the pressure soft when he teases the wet slit with his tongue and Lance sobs above him, immediately jerking his hips back, a hand on his forehead to shove him away.

“Okayokayokay- No more of that.” Lance heaves air in, resting finally on Shiro’s stomach. His hands push through his hair and then push the sleeves of the hoodie up.

Shiro smiles as he licks his lips. He gives Lance a pat on the thigh, thumb rubbing a circle when he coos, “Aww. Sorry baby, didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“Liar,” comes at him with a huff and Lance flopping to his side. He’s looking over the edge of the bed. Shiro watches him stick his arm down, likely reaching for the book.

Shiro hooks both arms around Lance and hauls him up, turning them over to the other side. Shiro tucks Lance in against his chest and the bed, almost squashing him down. Lance makes an unattractive squawking noise and flails, struggling to get out from under Shiro.

“No, no. Give me some time. You can find your place later.”

Lance finally gives up with a huff. They lay in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the afterglow, enjoying the warmth and heartbeat of the other so close.

Lancee wraps his arms around Shiro’s head, mumbling against his temple like he's sharing a secret. 

“I’ve found my place right here”


End file.
